


tea leaves

by cirrus (themorninglark)



Series: Sportsfest 2018 [28]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Sportsfest 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 03:24:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15572667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/cirrus
Summary: When he closes his eyes, it smells like his kitchen and his grandmother’s favourite tea.Kita and the third years at a deserted shrine.





	tea leaves

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sportsfest 2018 Remix Round | [originally posted here](https://sportsfest.dreamwidth.org/7730.html?thread=1514290#cmt1514290)

_houjicha.  
_ It’s Shinsuke who first discovers the old shrine. He had come early to scout out a good running route in the vicinity of school, and he had taken a dirt path winding gently upwards, towards a view of the distant sea. Later, when Aran remarks that it’s just the sort of place with Shinsuke’s name all over it and teases him about his omnipresent deities leading him here, Shinsuke smiles and says it was nothing so fateful as Aran imagines. It’s just him and a balmy spring drizzle, two weathered stone guardians and a rustling in the grass that might have been the wind, or a wild animal; either way, it means him no harm. It’s just him and the comforting scent of damp earth in the morning dew. When he closes his eyes, it smells like his kitchen and his grandmother’s favourite tea.

_ochazuke.  
_ Sincerity is an altar that he builds, brick by brick. Here, on the steps he’s cleaned by hand; here, in the shadow of a camphor tree and his teammates’ hushed voices, the shrine feels like it might be alive once more. It was damaged in an earthquake, he’d learned, not so long ago. The priest who used to look after the place has retired to another temple in Kyoto, but as Shinsuke rests one hand on the faded _torii_ , the crimson red finally visible again after he’d scrubbed off the mould, he thinks this shrine was never dead, just sleeping. He hopes he has woken it gently. Akagi’s run up to the edge of the hill, and he’s facing westward now, shielding his eyes with one hand as the sunset lights up the grin on his face. The taste of tea and rice lingers in Shinsuke’s mouth. Faith and sincerity, found in a simple dinner with his friends, and the consecration of a space that Shinsuke finds he is happy to share.

_oolong.  
_ Aran had thumped him on his back and said, with a hearty laugh, _race you up the slope_ , and Shinsuke had let him go with a smile, opted for a sedate stroll up the now-well-worn dirt path instead. Aran is more than a match for him when he’s firing on all cylinders, and Shinsuke is tired. They’re all tired. It’s been a long day, and yet—after the hugs and the high-fives, after getting off the bus, the quick debrief in the school courtyard—they’d all found themselves heading this way, as if there were some prayer in the wind waiting to be shaped by the four of them. There are moments when Shinsuke wonders if Aran was right about the deities after all. It’s not like he can hear them call his name, but perhaps deities don’t need to be quite so overt. Step by step, the little things have brought him to this altar, over and over again; every time, he has a new offering to lay there. He feels a hand at his shoulder then, and he turns to see Oomimi, holding out an open bottle to him. Shinsuke takes it with a grateful nod. Sometimes, chilled _oolong_ tea from a vending machine tastes better than anything from Kansai's finest teahouses. He brings it to his lips, and drinks deeply.


End file.
